Eyelash Wishes
by mangotreez
Summary: Sun Quan would never come to understand just how much a simple peasant girl who brought dishonour to Wu would mean to him, even after she’d cunningly joined his forces under the false identity of a man. Punishment really was out of the question. [OCxSQ]
1. Chapter 1

_ My hands grasp at the cold cobbles of the courtyard floor, while tears trickle down my face, splashing with a newfound hate to the stones below. My hair blew about my crimson painted cheeks in the wind, and my lips were charred and scratched – bitten to pieces due to my nervous habits. My armour which I had worn as part of my disguise was cast aside in the dirt; scratched and dirtied out of any recognizable shape or form. I was dressed in nothing but a thin top and shorts, and the bitter, chilly wind which the mellow setting sun had left behind bit at my bare, pale shoulders and legs with venom, whipping about my hair and causing it to fly about my face, stabbing into my eyes and causing me to blink rapidly. I had no energy. _

_ I would like to think that I was expressionless. Emotionless. But that was just a hope in heaven – my eyes were half filled with tears threatening to drop; my bottom lip wobbling in the same way which a baby's would if it had been scolded, I'm sure I was now far away from 'a sight for sore eyes.' I knew that I'd done wrong – and I knew that even now there was no pity for me; the dark, cold, cruel and unforgiving eyes of Lord Sun Quan glared through me, just gazing at my worn out form unbelievingly. It was as if he didn't know me anymore. _

_ He'd changed from the young boy who had rescued me on the day of the monstrous attack of our village – he'd grown up, and now realised that even if you love someone, they're the best people to let go of. _

_ I think back to how it all started- why I'm here, on my 'deathbed' if you like… _

**_Eyelash Wishes_**

**Chapter 1 **

"Ha! Ming looks like a boy with her hair up!"

It was the same everyday. The same high pitched, patronizing voice, which sent chills of anger through my core. Yes, the same three girls, teasing, annoying, and winding me up to the brink of insanity, until I could no longer resist the evil temptation of wanting to throw the brutes across the room.

Everyday.

I yanked my hair out of Ren's grip, and curtly wound it round to a twist with my hands, brushing it back down over my shoulder. The young Ren, at least five years younger than myself, gave a scowl which could make even Dong Zhuo shudder, and settled herself back daintily on the grass.

Ren was my sister, a slim, beautiful young girl who was everything I wasn't. Her hair was perfect black ebony, her eyes two perfect limpid blue pools, along with glowing rosy cheeks and full lips. Yes, everything about her was perfect – I wouldn't be wrong if I said she was the epitome of absolute perfection. Despite my constant accusations of her attitude and pranks, she was always the pearl which sat amongst the family line. Always getting her own way, and always finding a way to make sure others got the least, her favourite pastime was winding her 'responsible' older sister up. AKA, myself.

And yes, maybe I did look a bit too much like a boy. My face was long, and my lips were a taut line; unattractive and stubborn, according to my mother, who had much preference in Ren over me. I didn't have the best body – I was slim, but had no real shape. My older sister had always told me that soon, my curves would set in and my body would shape out into that of a woman. Soon? My sister had left our village months ago. No, years.

There was one thing I loved about myself – a small entity about my features which gave me but an ounce of pleasure – my eyes. Apparently you could get lost in them and not notice the time go by, according to a childhood sweetheart who I'd had a small relationship with in my younger years. He might have just been being complimentary, or it might be true. But I think they're mysterious; grey and clouded over, holding a hidden secret.

Woah, maybe that's too extreme.

Of course, my sister had this knack of making you believe her taunts – and despite the many times I'd spent hours gazing in the mirror, trying to fake a lady-like pout or flutter my long lashes, with my hair up you could easily mistake me for a boy. Of course it was fine down; trailing over my shoulders in all it's wavy messiness, being the dark brown colour that it is, I looked perfectly… normal.

Ren turned to her two friends who sat beside me on the grass.

"What do you wanna do today?" She said tartly, flicking her head round with such force that her hair swept about her shoulders gloriously.

The two other girls gave each other looks. Lin, the youngest, small and dainty with a cute little face gave Ren a beautiful smile. "I don't know," she answered, in a voice which could have melted butter, "maybe we could wind up Fa…"

"That's boring. We did that yesterday, and he's too old and deaf to notice us," Ren's second crony piped up. Shang was bodyguard/posh friend number two, a large girl, but still managing to be utterly gorgeous. She was less of a prime village teen queen, and much nicer than any of the other girls who had the misfortune to be part of Ren's group. I don't know how she ever got dragged into the antics of the young wannabes, but albeit her happiness for being part of the 'crew', she had issues, alike the others.

Fa was an elder of the village, one of the wisest and most accomplished men I knew. He'd become deafened by the bedlam of war, and blinded by the delirium. Having been forgotten by most everyone in the village, he'd been reduced to wandering aimlessly around the village and tottering about the fields, muttering incoherent ramblings to the only people that would listen. He was once a legend, but the wars of the past had torn him apart.

"Goodness Lin, keep up." Ren patronized, swiping a hand at the air to view the shiny clean nails which were rooted into her fingers. With an unappreciative frown, she gazed back at Shang.

"Any bright ideas?"

While they discussed their new plans for devising havoc and mishap in the small village where we lived, I studied my own nails. Browning, embedded with dirt, grass and god only knows what else, they were a disgrace. But still – helping out in the fields for once wouldn't hurt Ren all too much; it would just make her perfect, pearly white nails end up like mine.

Ren rose from the ground and tossed her hair over her shoulder with an arrogant sigh. "Ming, we're going to look at the market. There's a new stall, women's clothing… I would invite you but… they wouldn't sell you much."

I glared up at my sister, and contented myself with throwing a small pebble at her legs.

"So immature." Ren tutted, along with Lin. They gave me small, mock-sympathetic smiles and stalked off, hips swinging, hair flying about their shoulders. Shang - out of sympathy - gave me a small wave, and followed the others.

* * *

I loved the area in which we lived. Long, rolling hills and countryside, isolated by far off beautiful mountains, enclosed by the spiralling body of the Changjiang River. It was an excellent area for farming, and it was far enough away from the Jiangdong palace and town so that we could be counted among the lucky few who didn't have to include themselves in the war affairs of the Sun family lineage. The palace was two days away by foot, but the village was still counted as part of Wu territory. 

I had never been all that interested in war – I didn't want anything to do with it, and the idea of fighting amongst kingdoms for the sake of land was just… insanity. An even crazier debate than the one of which me and Ren were constantly arguing over.

My uncle was in the Wu army. He was many years younger than my father, and had the zest of adventure about him. We'd never been close, but he had a spark of energy which constantly seemed to dance around him, a twinkle in his eye which told you he was about to pull off something funny, a jump about his tone of voice which always emerged when he told me of his latest adventures of war. War was nothing to him – a game, in which you either won with flying colours, or became a failure and dishonour to your family. That was what he was all about – winning. He loved a challenge; anything which could get the adrenaline pumping. I don't know, but maybe some people like the sight of spewed guts, specks of precious blood dotted across fields, houses trampled underfoot and burnt in rebellion, humans thrown carelessly aside to the floor, some dead, some writhing in pain.

That was battle to me. Those were the horrors of war.

It was a nightmare, a twisted world of blood and destruction which I never wanted to become involved in. I never thought I'd have to go through the pain of watching someone die for the sake of a country, but I guess I just didn't see the reality of the nightmare looming only days ahead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_It was the same dream._

_Flames dancing about viciously, licking at the cobbled pathways which twisted around the streets of the village, while the houses surrounding bathed in a soothing crimson glow. Wooden houses which had been partly devoured by the roaring fires fell slowly apart, while the crash of nearby buildings which fell to the ground around me left a resounding, heavy throbbing in my sensitive ears. My village was a bombsite, as it were. _

_I think I must have been the only one alive, there were dead bodies spewed out carelessly on the stones around me. One man, who lay face down on the cobbles, gave a twitch of his hand, which had been painted in scarlet blood. I felt physically sick just thinking about it. Even the family I was staying with were dead – and I was only a youngster, just seven years of age, and I'd been thrown into this mix of war and rage. _

_And at such a young age war was just so confusing – the fear of the concept is worse when you're younger, it's not just that nagging feeling that you're being watched, it's a proper emotion, where monsters are gnawing at your insides and playing about with your brain, conjuring up horrible nightmares which you're forced to believe. There's no voice quietly whispering in your ear telling you to turn round, there's a whole new person in your head yelling themselves hoarse at you to run. _

_From somewhere deeply embedded in flames and trash, came the yell of a child; a screeching agonizing yell which rang out in the smoky air and slowly faded against the venomous spitting sound of ember. I recognized the yell – it was familiar, as if it belonged to someone who was close… _

_Stumbling, I wiped specks of congealed mud and dirt from my face, and began to limp painfully closer to where the screech had come from, my clammy hands scrabbling along the cobbles whenever I fell. There was a gash in my leg, deep and arduous, and as I hobbled along to reach the screaming child all I felt was a searing affliction shooting about my limbs. _

_"Hello?" I yelled out to the flames, hope rising on a high octave in my gasping voice. A long silence followed the trembling echo of my call, nothing replied except the continuous angry hissing from the fires. I was greeted by a rush of fear which slowly coursed through my body, a sinking feeling, which made it feel as if my heart had crashed down to my stomach. The feeling of being alone, some called it. And here I was… alone with the flames, shattered windows, burning logs of recent house structure and debris. I'd never felt there could have been a better use for the word. _

_The voice of the child had died out. _

_"Hey, you!" _

_I swivelled about on the spot, clutching my knee with a bruised hand, gritting my teeth with irritation. _

_A boy was sprinting breathlessly toward me from out of nowhere, at least fifteen years old. His hair was whipping about his face, darting about his shoulders as he ran, and it shone from the crisp glow of the fire. He had a slight limp, though ignored it as he ran on toward me, his face a mixture of concern and intent, daring. Embers were quietly fizzing on his rolled up trousers, while fire leapt up at his chest vigorously._

_I sighed out to myself dramatically, and fell to the ground, bashing my head against the tile. I knew from the rush of convulsion which began to spiral in my head that I'd done something stupid. That, and the fact that even though I was scared out of my wits, the tips of my ears began to glow scarlet (my cheeks quickly following) and I flushed from embarrassment. _

_The boy reached me, and fell to my side. _

_"Stay awake. We've got help." He said quietly, smiling when he saw my crimson cheeks, the humiliated expression which spread over my face. He really was handsome…_

_And then I remembered._

_"My sister!" I suddenly exclaimed, practically choking on my words as I tried so hard to fight them out. My tone was laced with gas from the fire, and I burst into a fit of ungodly coughing. _

_"She's hurt?" _

_From the amount of crazy head-nodding I broke into, it was obvious she was in danger. He nodded, and stood up, turning his gaze to cast it over the fires, which were slowly making food of the old houses. He frowned to himself, the lurched forward to find my sister._

_"Wait…" I spluttered, rolling over on the path to lean onto an arm, "what's your name?"_

_He turned back to gaze at me, and gave a fond smile. "Quan."_

My grandmother hobbled over to my chair and placed a mug of tea on the table. I swept it up in eager hands, and quickly raised it to my mouth for a taste. I gave a small yelp as it scorched the tip of my tongue, but nevertheless took a deep gulp, winced, and swallowed gratefully. It was sweet, albeit boiling hot.

The elderly woman's face wrinkled into a large, fond smile, and she chuckled to herself. "You needed that, no?"

I nodded quickly, hugging the tea to my chest and crossing my legs over one another, mercifully burying myself deeper into the commodious cushions which sat on my grandmother's wicker chair.

I spent half of my life in this old house near the edge of the village, the cosy, aging wooden hut was a perfect getaway from the chaos of farm life, from the constant bickering which most always occurred between Ren and I, and from the harsh, cutting judgements of my mother.

We sipped our tea in silence for a while, the quiet peace only broken by the chirping of birds which sat in the trees outside. Grandmother surveyed me over the rim of her mug; her eyes penetrating but warm at the same time. Like my uncle, she always knew when there was something disturbing my thoughts.

"You look troubled," she said quietly, sitting back in the chair and placing her tea onto the small table beside her. "What's wrong?"

I swallowed and too drew my mug aside, leaning forward and taking a lock of hair into my fingers; it was a habit which I always went into when explaining something, or listening intently.

"I was thinking about the weekend I spent away when I was younger, with that family."

Grandmother screwed her aged face up into a mask of confusion, adding to the wrinkles which already twisted about her skin, "the weekend away?"

"Yes," I mumbled, more to myself than gran, "when we were attacked." I felt my face go red with humiliation – more from bringing the topic up than anything. I'd always felt (or been led to believe by my mother, who constantly spoke about it as if it was my fault) that everyone was dead because of me. It was an insane thing to believe, though it made sense to me, seeing as I'd been the only one who was rescued (albeit my sister, who, regrettably, I often wished had never been saved by that gorgeous boy) I felt like the odd one out, the person who was stuck in the middle and singled out.

"You're lucky to have survived," Grandmother said shortly, folding her arms over her chest and raising her eyebrows as she saw my brow crease to form a sour, childish frown which was aimed at the floor.

"Hardly." I muttered in a barely audible whisper.

Gran heard my statement, and made my head snap up by waving her hands about madly, sitting forward in hr chair and fixing me with a stern look. "You survived. You were saved, and that's the end of it. Not even Nu Wa knows why your damned mother won't let you hear the end of it," she protested madly, not even flinching as she insulted my mother.

Gran looked me deep in the eyes, and I smiled weakly. "Yeah."

She stood up, collecting up the mug from the table, walking over to my chair and gently prising mine out of my now warmed up hands.

"Speaking of bad omens, how is Ren?"

I rolled my eyes to the heavens, and gave my old, hobbling grandmother a sarcastic look. "Bad as usual. She and her daft bodyguards won't leave Fa alone anymore. They're terrorizing him out of his insanity, if that's even possible."

Grandmother gave a short laugh from where she washed out the mugs by the sink, and glanced over her shoulder to look at me. "She gives you a hard time?"

I nodded.

Grandmother chuckled and turned her back to the mugs, which were coated in shiny bubbles and glistened in the sunlight which filtered through the blinds. She considered for a moment and then said thoughtfully, "does that young Shang girl go round with your sister?"

"Yes. Most of the time, though I think she's probably nicer than all the others," I wound a lock of hazel hair round my fingers again, breaking into the old routine. After a few contemplative twists, my hair noticeably knotty, I asked, "why?"

"Her family were really struggling a while ago; they weren't getting much income from the farming and it was hard for her mother to feed her children." Gran paused for a minute, and then added, "seven kids. Crazy, no?"

"Carry on."

"Sorry. Well, the father had been thrown out of his last job at the mills, then decided he could join the army. Those soldiers…" the old woman's eyes suddenly went hazy, and she drifted off into a dream. "They get paid so much. They're doing great now."

I sat back and stared into space. "The army? Woah."

The Wu army was one of the best in China – led by the gorgeous Sun Ce, following on from his deceased father, Sun Jian. The Sun family were certainly renowned for their battle and strategic skills.

"Good honour," Gran added as an afterthought, turning back to the dishes.

I didn't respond, and just sat there, thinking about a life in the army. The fighting side of it sounded so incredibly horrible, but if the pay was as good as they said; maybe it had its strong points. I now knew why my uncle had joined – not just for the adventure, but for the salary.

* * *

Dinner that night was a dull affair. The four of us sat round the table with sullen faces, mother chewing quietly on her rice with an emotionless expression, Ren just gazing around superiorly, her head held high, shooting me bitter looks whenever I gazed up from my food.

Father was quiet. Quieter than usual, I mean. He didn't normally have much to say for himself, but tonight it was the kind of silence where you're biting your nails, wringing your hands, the like. He was agitated, as if he wanted to tell us something, but not able to.

I pretended to take no notice and continued to chomp on my rice, gnashing about on the white grains so as to annoy Ren. She threw me a disgusted look.

There was a click from the other side of the table, and all three of our heads snapped up to see an anxious father, flapping his hands about, biting his lower lip.

"S-sorry." He stuttered, going back to twisting his hands about each other. I was sure his tendons would snap if he continued any longer.

Mother gave a long, obvious sigh, and said loudly, "what is it?" It was more of a snap than anything – even though father was the real breadwinner of our family, the head of the house; it was obvious who could be in charge if she wanted.

With a small start, Father opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. He swept his gaze across Ren and I, giving a meaningful beholding to my mother.

Ren got the picture even quicker than I did, and stood up at the table, slamming a fist down with antagonism, glaring out mother and father.

"You can tell me anything!" She protested loudly, causing mother to glower and tighten her lips in anger. "Anything! I bet Ren will get to know…"she trailed off into a quiet hiss of anger as she saw the sad, forlorn expression across father's face. Her cheeks flushed a violent scarlet, and after realising what trouble she was in, she seated herself again slowly and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face with a shaking hand.

There was a short, humiliating silence, and to fill it, Ren and I immediately began eating through our rice, with a newfound speed and interest. I studied my bowl so intently I could have memorised the blue pattern which ran around the edge.

"I need to speak to you, in private." Father said to my mother with a slight hint of amusement visible in his tone.

I turned in my seat and sat back against the table. Outside of the house, through the window, I could see that the sun was slowly setting. It was beautiful – mellow colours of mixed orange, red and pink were spreading throughout the hills, and in the distance you could see the Changjiang River sparkling happily underneath the disappearing rays, the waters gently lapping up against the mud-trodden grass. The trees were nothing but silhouettes against the rising landscape.

I thought of my father's anxious tone, his quiet suffering, the way he couldn't tell either Ren or myself what he wanted to tell mother. We weren't the closest of family, but it was rare that father kept secrets from us.


End file.
